


Variation

by tsiviaravina



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Another Fluffernutter, F/M, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Nightmares, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-11-03 23:58:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17887622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsiviaravina/pseuds/tsiviaravina
Summary: In music, variation is a formal technique where material is repeated in an altered form. The changes may involve melody, harmony, timbre, orchestration or any combination of these.Music is sometimes life itself.





	Variation

**Author's Note:**

> This has been hanging around for a while and I finally finished it. Related to music, but no song directly in it, for a change!
> 
> Set...at some point.
> 
> I OWN NOTHING! I *think* Lucifer (TV) belongs to Netflix now, but it does not belong to me. Musical terminology as defined by Google and Wikipedia.

**_Melody:_** _a linear succession of musical tones that the listener perceives as a single entity; a series or progression of musical notes over time._

She had found herself in this same exact situation more and more often. Not at Lux per se, but at Lucifer's penthouse, sipping top-shelf scotch, sprawled on the couch ("No shoes on the Italian leather" was his only rule for her), case files scattered on the floor.

It began simply enough. One evening at the station, she had asked Lucifer if she could bounce some ideas off him in the peace of the penthouse instead of the chaos of the precinct. Of course he had to suggest other things she could bounce off him if she were so inclined. She replied with a pithy comment about "average balls" not quite being up to that particular task, which made him splutter, then laugh as he helped her into her coat and escorted her to his car.

Soon, their routine was established.

He would take her up to the penthouse, hand her two fingers of the best scotch she had ever tasted, and soothe her mind by playing the piano until she would start asking herself questions aloud to which he would actually pay attention. They would spitball ideas back and forth, laughing at the truly ludicrous ones, eventually ordering takeout.

On the evenings when she didn't have Trixie, she had taken to falling asleep on the couch from scotch, a full stomach, and sheer exhaustion. Then she would wake to the sound of Lucifer humming absently to himself, to the fragrance of espresso and omelets, and to the sight of the sunlight streaming in through the windows, her case files stacked in order on the chair across from her.

 

* * *

 

**_Harmony:_** _the combination of simultaneously sounded musical notes to produce chords and chord progressions having a pleasing effect._

One night before she usually collapsed, she had finally sighed, "I need a break," and pushed herself up off the couch.

"Refill?" he asked, gesturing to her glass.

"Please." She took her hair out of its ponytail and ran her hands through it as she walked out on to the balcony.

Then she shook it out and left it down without thinking.

She smiled when she heard Lucifer step up behind her and held her hand out for the tumbler of scotch. "This might work better than scotch. Try and hold still...I've never...never done this before," she heard him say hesitantly instead. Then she felt the brush she kept in her purse carefully sliding through her hair.

She couldn't—okay, didn't want to—stop him. She closed her eyes and leaned back into each pass of the brush, gentle and tender. He removed every snarl; he smoothed out every tangle. Then he just kept on sliding the brush through her hair.

She could only make a noise very close to a purr at the sensation of Lucifer brushing her hair. She tipped her head back, smiled, opened her eyes, and let them rest on the dark sky above her. She sighed in disappointment when he slowly stopped. She closed her eyes and was about to lower her head when Lucifer carefully held her in place and kissed her gently on the forehead.

"Thank you, Detective," he said softly.

Chloe placed her hands over his and rested her back against Lucifer's front, bringing his arms down to wrap around her waist. "You're welcome," she murmured drowsily.

She felt his chuckle through her whole body. "Time for your nap on the couch," he said when she blinked up at him.

"All right," she agreed. She let him lead her back to the couch, slide off her shoes, tuck a pillow under her head and a soft throw over her body.

"Sleep, Detective," he said, running a hand over her hair.

She slept.

 

* * *

 

**_Timbre:_** _the character or quality of a musical sound or voice as distinct from its pitch and intensity._

One night, Chloe woke, startled out of sleep by a heart-rending cry.

She reached instinctively for a weapon that wasn't there.

Then she heard it again.

It was Lucifer.

She untangled herself from the throw surrounding her and stumbled over to Lucifer's bed. He was shirtless, on his stomach, body arched, scars shining in the darkness.

His _scars..._

She knew what was happening.

He was reliving whatever horrific experience had given him those scars.

She knew if he hurt her in any way, even unintentionally, he would never forgive himself. She couldn't risk touching him.

"Lucifer!"

He cried out again and her heart broke a little more.

"Lucifer, _wake_ _up!"_

He collapsed face-down on the bed, soaked with sweat, panting.

"Lucifer?" she said softly, carefully approaching him.

"D-Detective?" The voice that normally echoed through Lux on a crowded Saturday night and over the chaos of crime scenes was suddenly nothing more than a pained gasp.

"Hey—it's okay. It's just me. No one else is here." She didn't know if that would comfort him or terrify him.

He was shivering.

She padded to the bathroom on bare feet and found a towel.

"Is it...is it okay if I touch you?" she asked.

He nodded.

Chloe walked over to him and sat next to him on the bed. She patted his bare back carefully with the towel, trying her best to stay away from the scars. 

She ran a hand gently over his sweat-soaked hair. He was still shaking. 

He curled around her, resting his head on her thigh. She kept stroking his hair, careful not to touch his back.

"I'm here. You're safe," she whispered over and over.

Eventually, he stopped shaking.

"I'm sorry I woke you," he said into the darkness.

"I'm not," Chloe replied.

He wrapped his arms around her waist.

"Never thought I'd say it, but for once, I'm glad you _weren't_ sharing a bed with me."

She didn't laugh, although she knew he wanted her to. She just kept running a hand through his hair, feeling his body relax against hers, muscle by muscle. She placed her hand over the nape of his neck. His skin was back to being warm and dry.

"Better?" she asked.

Lucifer nodded against her thigh, but his arms tightened around her.

"Okay. Come on. Shove over," she ordered him.

"What?" he asked her a little fuzzily.

"I'm not going to let you have another nightmare," Chloe said firmly. "Move over, Lucifer."

She thought that he was going to say something suggestive yet again to keep her at arm's length, but he just exhaled in relief. 

He slid over, giving her plenty of room. "I'll be the little spoon since you're so damn tall," she muttered, snuggling back into him and pulling his arm around her waist. She felt, rather than heard him chuckle softly.

He was warm, pleasantly so. His arm was a comforting weight over her. She yawned, comfortable and drowsy. "Good night, Lucifer," she murmured, tangling their fingers together.

"Good night, Detective," he whispered into her hair.

Within a few breaths, they were both asleep.

 

* * *

 

**_Orchestration:_** _the selection of different instruments to play the different parts of a musical work._

She was comfortably warm. Not an ache in her body. She remembered the night before as soon as she opened her eyes. 

Lucifer's arm was still around her. His hand was under her top, splayed against the bare skin of her stomach.

She realized she liked it there.

She also liked his body resting beside hers.

She smiled softly. So this was how it was going to happen. 

Not with quicksilver or fireworks.

But slowly and gradually, because of all the time...

_...the infuriating quips, the sarcastic commentary, the smug innuendo, the constant banter..._

_...their shared vulnerabilities, insight, protectiveness...._

...all _this_ time they had spent together.

She relaxed and snuggled back into him again, eliciting a sleepy mumble from him. He nuzzled the nape of her neck, pressing prickly kisses to the skin there. She sighed in contentment and squeezed his hand.

He squeezed back.

"No bad dreams?" she asked softly.

"Not a one," he said, sending puffs of air over her neck.

"Glad it worked," she commented.

She turned herself around in his arms until she was facing him, his hand sliding over her skin until it rested on the curve of her spine.

His eyes were still a bit wary, a little haunted.

But she simply smiled and ran a hand over his cheekbone and scratched at the stubble under his jaw. He purred like the big, masculine animal he was. His smile was soft and sleepy again at her touch, his eyes half-closed. 

It really wasn't fair that he had those eyelashes, she thought to herself, and smiled.

She pressed her hands against his chest and closed her eyes, letting herself luxuriate in the feeling of her skin against his.

He kissed her forehead, the tip of her nose, and finally brushed his lips over hers.

Oh, Chloe thought. There were the fireworks. Deep down in her belly and in the slow pulse between her legs.

The next time he kissed her, she kissed him back. Soft. Warm. A delicious floating feeling when his tongue met hers.

She slid her hands from his chest to his neck, running her fingers through the hair on the back of his head, pulling him down for another, deeper kiss. He was more than happy to oblige her.

The kisses didn't stay gentle for long. He rolled her onto her back, running his mouth and his stubble down her neck and over the skin he could reach. She gasped as his hands slid under her top and he looked at her questioningly.

She nodded, smiled, and raised her arms, wiggling a little to help Lucifer take off her top. She unfastened the front catch on her bra and slid out of it, tossing it aside.

Lucifer smoothed his hands up and down her chest, occasionally cupping her breasts in his hands. He used his thumbs to tease her nipples into hard points before running his tongue over them, taking each one briefly in his mouth. 

She moaned, trying to keep herself still as he used his mouth, hot and wet, to mark her, to claim her. He hummed against the skin of her belly in response, his tongue tickling her navel. He laughed when she giggled and squirmed against him, his hands firmly grasping her hips.

She hadn't expected this light, sensual playfulness from him. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of her pants and her panties, slowly easing them down her hips and legs, his mouth following.

She gasped when he eased one, then two fingers inside her. Her eyes fluttered closed at the sensation of fullness and pressure and pleasure where she hadn't been touched in so long. Her hips moved along with the motions of his fingers and hand. 

She opened her eyes to see Lucifer watching her intently, and her breath began to speed up. She spread her legs wider, wanting more.

She arched her back and whimpered softly, folding her legs up towards her body, biting her bottom lip, exposing herself to him—making herself as vulnerable to him now as he had been to her last night.

"Please," she whispered.

He lowered his mouth to her breast and she felt a little stretch in her muscles when he inserted a third finger. He left her breast with a kiss and nuzzled her hip before kneeling in between her legs and teasing her with his tongue.

"Yes!"

He teased, he tasted, he thrummed his tongue against her, alongside his fingers. "You're so sweet, darling," he whispered, and went back to making her fall apart under his mouth and his fingers.

She bit her bottom lip again and pressed her head deep into her pillow as she arched herself up to meet each stroke of his fingers and the pressure of his tongue. "That's it, love. Let me see you come."

And she did.

She grabbed his wrist with her hands and ground against him, and cried out as he pressed his fingers in and then up inside her, his lips finding hers, letting her taste herself, salt-sweet and slightly musky on his tongue. She was telling him, desperate and needy, that she was close, so close, begging him until he rubbed at that one spot inside her and she cried out wordlessly into his mouth.

He gently withdrew his hand from inside her so he could hold her tight to his body as she shook, the sheer bliss of it all overwhelming her. "You're so beautiful, darling. My beautiful, brave Chloe," he repeated over and over until she stopped shivering and her muscles stopped their spasms.

He brought her hand down so she could palm him through his trousers. She breathlessly undid the buckle of his belt, then his button and zipper. He rolled on his back and as she pulled down his pants, she found that he was ticklish right above his hips and she could make him groan through clenched teeth when she finally freed him and placed a kiss at the base of his cock.

She used her lips, her tongue, and her hand to set a rhythm that made him curse and tangle his hands in her hair. She tongued the head of his cock, slid her lips down the length of the shaft, squeezed gently at the base, and pulled up with her hand only to start the whole pattern over and over again until, "Bloody hell, Chloe," he moaned, gently pulling her mouth off him.

She dragged her body upwards along his until she could kiss him again. This time he _was_ all fireworks and quicksilver as he tumbled her beneath him, his mouth open, his tongue seeking. He hitched her hips up and brought one of her hands down so she could guide him inside her.

Again, she moaned as his girth stretched her, then withdrew. He started slowly, until she wrapped her legs around his waist and locked her ankles together, and started sucking between his neck and shoulder. "Make me come," she whispered to him, making him let out a thoroughly wrecked moan above her.

Chloe caught her breath and grabbed his shoulders when he drove into her, rolled his hips, and pulled almost completely out again. The rhythm he set was both punishing and pleasure-filled. She met every thrust, every roll of his hips with one of her own. Soon, again, she was so damn close...

"Lucifer!"

"Easy, love. Let it happen," he whispered in her ear. When her grip on his shoulders simply tightened and her head began to roll back and forth on the pillow, he reached a hand down to gently stroke her clit with his thumb.

Her body locked up and her muscles clamped down around him. A small, high-pitched cry uncurled itself from her throat, then, "Don't stop! Don't stop!"

He kept going as long as he could, but he finally could do nothing more than wrap an arm around her hips and drive himself into her over and over again until she bit his shoulder and he slammed into her as he came, gasping her name in a heated rush into her ear.

 

* * *

 

**_Coda:_** _the concluding passage of a piece or movement, typically forming an addition to the basic structure_.

They had lain together in the early morning sunlight talking softly, touching gently.

"I have Trixie for the rest of the week," Chloe told him hesitantly.

"All right," he replied.

"Well, I didn't know if you...if you wanted to wait until next week to—"

"Absolutely not."

"But—"

"I am not waiting until next week to spend the night in your arms. The Devil may indeed wear Prada, but he also knows how to pack a suitcase."

Chloe smiled and curled up in his arms. "Thank you," she whispered.

"You are very welcome, darling, but it's hardly a sacrifice if it means I get to stay with you."

"You do realize that Trixie will be over the moon about you staying over, don't you?"

"I should hope so."

"Then we have to make a stop at the grocery store tonight, because I expect omelets in the morning, or at the very least, pancakes."

"Is that all I am?" Lucifer said, trying to sound outraged and failing miserably. "A glorified fry cook?"

"I'll make it worth your while," Chloe wheedled, letting her hand trace a path from his neck to his groin, where she let her hand fondle and explore.

He made purring noises again as she scratched the stubble under his chin and ran her hand around his waist to his back. "As long as it's an even exchange of services," he murmured into her hair.

Chloe checked her phone. "We have plenty of time for a demonstration, if you're so inclined," she whispered into his neck, sucking gently at the skin there.

Lucifer was more than happy to show her in a number of interesting ways, that he was very much inclined indeed.


End file.
